


Youre Not Dying!

by RosieTheRiveter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Dean, Fluff, M/M, Sick Castiel, brother conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRiveter/pseuds/RosieTheRiveter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awww - poor Cas is not feeling well. Dean takes care of him. Just fluff. No angst. No sex. Just cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youre Not Dying!

**Author's Note:**

> There may be additional portions to come. This can be read stand-alone though.

A light knocking on the door and a muffled “Dean?” woke Dean from a sound sleep. He groaned and rolled over, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. It’s me.”

“Well, come in for cryin’ out loud,” Dean grumped.

Dean’s door opened and Cas shuffled in, standing in the middle of the room and fidgeting, twisting the string in the sweatpants Dean had lent him.

“What is it, Cas? Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Why not?”

“Dean - I fear I may be dying.”

“What?!” Dean was fully awake now. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Cas fidgeted again. “My - my head hurts and I feel - strange. I’m certain it’s fatal.”

Dean let out a sigh - half relief and half exasperation - turned on his light, threw his covers off and got out of bed. “C’mere - “ Dean pressed the back of his hand to Cas’ forehead. “Hmm - you’ve got a fever - you feel shivery?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I hate to burden you with this.”

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I hate to tell you this but - “

“What is it, Dean?” Cas frowned - what could be worse than death?

“You have the flu.”

“The flu?”

“Yes. You aren’t dying. Remember, Charlie was sick last week?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Well, you must’ve caught it. Here - sit down.” Dean gently steered Cas towards his bed. “Wait here - I’ll be back in a minute - OK?”

“OK,” Cas replied miserably. “Where are you going?”

“Be right back!” Dean called from the hallway.

Dean returned in two minutes with a glass of water and an armful of medicines. Cas had curled up sleepily on Dean’s bed, his head on the pillow that was still warm from Dean.

“Making yourself comfortable, I see.”

“Your bed is very soft, Dean.”

“Uh - yeah - It’s the Memory Foam - we can get one for your bed, too, if you want. Sit up for a minute. Take these.” Dean handed Cas two Advils and the water, then opened a bottle of Nyquil, filled the little cup with the thick, green liquid and handed it to Cas. “Now this.”

Cas drank the liquid. “Aah!” Cas scrunched up his face. “It’s terrible!” Cas coughed and then gripped his forehead. “Ohh, Dean - my head hurts!” Cas whined.

“Aww. You’ll be OK. The medicine will kick in soon. Lie down.” Dean wiggled the blankets out from under Cas’ butt.

“Here?” Cas managed to look surprised and feverish at the same time.

“Yeah - you already have your head dent in my pillow anyway. C’mon - under the blankets - let’s go, Germy.” Cas snuggled under the covers and wiggled his head into the pillow until he was comfortable.

“Hey, Cas - your stomach doesn’t hurt or anything, does it?” Dean eyed the dark, messy head and blanket lump suspiciously.

“No, not really.”

“Good - I don’t want you puking in my bed. OK - go to sleep now.” Cas sighed and closed his eyes. 

Dean looked at the other side of his bed, debating the merits of sleeping there versus the couch in the TV room. If Cas needed him in the middle of the night and had to go looking for him, he might panic. After all, he was still new at all this human stuff and tended to get over-anxious about things like this (explaining morning-wood to Cas was not something he’d ever want to admit he’d done). But on the other hand, was it setting a precedent that he wasn’t sure he was ready for? 

A pitiful half-wimper, half-moan from the lump made his decision for him. Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his overdramatic former-angel. If his heart did a little flutter in his chest and he got a warm feeling somewhere in his stomach, he’d deny it and probably punch anyone who accused him of such sappy crap in the face.

Dean grabbed his jacket and flicked off the light. He climbed into the empty side of the bed, balled his jacket under his head for a pillow, closed his eyes and promptly felt Cas roll over and snuggle his head into Dean’s chest. 

Dean started arguing with himself: 

‘He’s sick - that’s all - It’s no big deal. 

But he’s very cuddly. 

It’s not like that! 

You like it though. 

Shut up! Go to sleep! 

You wish he’d be here every night. 

Go to sleep! You’re worse than Sam! Jesus!’

*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~  
When Dean’s eyes cracked in the morning, he was definitely not spooning Cas with his nose nestled in his tousled bedhead hair. Definitely not. There was definitely not a moment when he sort of almost maybe kissed his hair before gently scooting away and out of bed. 

After using the bathroom and starting coffee he returned to his room, poking his head through the door. “Hey, Cas - you awake?”

“Mmmph - rnmph.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean entered the room with a fresh glass of water. “Medicine time.”

Cas struggled to sit up. “Not that green stuff.”

“I know it’s awful but it’ll help you feel better. I’ll make you tea and scrambled eggs if you’re hungry.”

“A little.” Cas looked sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m lonely. Do I have to stay in bed all day? Maybe I can do some research?”

“No research - you’re sick. And don’t worry about being lonely - I made you a couch nest so you can rest and watch TV.” Dean nudged the tiny cup of medicine at Cas. 

“What’s a couch nest?” Cas took the swig of NyQuil and made the scrunched up face again.

“Oh - pretty much the best thing about being home sick.” Dean handed Cas a giant zip-up hoodie of Sam’s he’d grabbed, still warm out of the dryer. “Put this on and we’ll get you settled on the couch.”

Shuffling into the TV room, Cas noticed that Dean had piled blankets and pillows onto the couch. 

“This is a couch nest. I used to do this for Sammy when he was little. We’d usually get dumped at Bobby’s when one of us was sick but we’d get to spend the day watching cartoons and old Westerns so we didn’t mind. Get snuggled in the middle and I’ll get your breakfast.” Dean lifted up the top layer of blankets for Cas to snuggle under.

Dean grabbed the TV remote and flipped through the channels until he found Animal Planet. “Hey look - penguins!” Cas gave a small smile as Dean set the remote down and ruffled Cas’ hair.

*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~*******~~~~~

Dean tended the eggs and toast in between gulps of coffee and putting a big pot of chicken soup in the slow cooker. (And no, just because he had a slow cooker did not mean he was a suburban housewife like Sam teased him about thank you very much. Everyone likes a nice soup after a monster hunt, don’t they? What’s so wrong with that?)

“Hey.”

“Hey, Sam. Fresh coffee is on - you want eggs?”

“Uh, sure, thanks.” Sam poured himself a cup. “Did, uh, did Cas sleep in your room last night?”

Dean’s face turned beet red and he focused on the frying pan. “Yeah. Hey, do you want to make toast?”

Sam grabbed the loaf of bread. “So - did you sleep in your room last night?”

“Yeah. You want cheese?”

“Nice deflection. No on the cheese, I want tomato. So - uh - “

“Look, Sam - he’s sick - I didn’t want him alone in case he got worse. It’s no big deal. Don’t make this into a thing.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t ‘Uh huh’ me.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“There was a Hell of a lot of sarcasm in that ‘Uh huh.’”

“I’m not making it into a thing. I was just asking.” Sam started more toast. “It’s just - ”

Dean let out a huge sigh resigning himself to the fact that Sam never just let anything go.

“- it’s just - I’m cool with it. You know. If you and Cas - “

“Me and Cas what?”

“If you - you know - like each other.”

“He’s my best friend, Sam. Of course I like him.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Dean shrugged and didn’t reply. 

“You both deserve to be happy is all I’m saying.”

Dean finished plating the eggs, not looking at his brother. 

Sam sighed frustrated turning to walk out.

"Sam!"

"What is it, Dean?"

“Thanks, Sam.”


End file.
